A thousand wars my soul hath fought,
and from these wars my sword was wraught,
T'was the truth my soul had sought.
The thousand wars begin again,
my soul grows tired within the din,
my soul will slumber in the end.
A thousand wars my soul has lost,
a new tear melts the winters frost,
my sword, my soul, a pipers cost.
I stab my heart with the sword of ilk,
it bleeds my soul red on pure white silk.
The truth my soul had never found,
runs blood red upon the ground.
Allen